


On Your Own

by pintsizedrogue



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Futuristic, M/M, One Shot, Outlaws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pintsizedrogue/pseuds/pintsizedrogue
Summary: This is a short one shot featuring outlaw Ryan Bergara and extra spicy Shane Madej, with X-Men style superpowers. The idea popped into my head while listening to On Your Own by No Fit State (https://youtu.be/mG7_C0tpQu4). I couldn't get it out of my head - so here we are! Apologies for the rather abrupt ending. Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed it! <3Unbeta'd! We die like men. Kisses!
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	On Your Own

Ryan has two goals for his afternoon: get a decent drink and avoid the Company’s minions. He’s been hunted for a while now, for reasons he’d really rather not think about, hence the midday drink. He’s halfway into his second old fashioned when the door opens, casting bright rays of light that illuminate the crusty bar in disturbing detail. Instinctively, he ducks his head, pulling his hat low over his face as he surveys the new arrivals in the mirror behind the bar.

Aw, shit. So much for a decent drink. Ryan’s dark eyes dart about as he searches for another exit. There’s a back room and bathrooms down the hallway, but they might just lead him deeper into the maze. Either way, it’s his only shot. Shoulders hunched and hat slung low, Ryan slides from the barstool and makes it a few steps towards freedom before a voice behind him calls out.

“Hey, Bergara!”

Ryan freezes. His pulse quickens and his muscles tense. There’s only three thugs today, he thinks blandly. He may have a shot. A shot, really? God, he’s got to come up with better puns.

“We can do this easy,” the voice begins. Ryan doesn’t give it a chance to finish the thought before he dives behind a nearby table, hand plunging into his jacket for his gun. It’s times like this he wished he ran with more firepower, but does he ever think to stock up when he has the chance? No, damn it, it’s never on his mind when he’s not fighting for his life. Shots ring out, but it sounds like the Company thugs didn’t bring heavy artillery today either. Heaving a sigh, Ryan drops his head back against the overturned table. The sudden thump of a bullet lodging itself into his temporary shield kickstarts him into action. He turns, falling to one knee as he aims and takes a few shots over the table. It’s enough to keep the thugs from advancing, but not for long.

“I could use a little help here!” Ryan yells into the empty air. More bullets whiz by. A figure pops into existence behind the bar, leaning casually against the wall. Tall, pale, and lanky, with a dark mop of hair strewn every which way. The figure tuts casually as he surveys the scene. His midsection ripples and turns translucent for a moment as a bullet flies through and shatters the mirror behind him. Unaffected, the man steps forward and grabs a bottle of whiskey from below the bar, setting up to pour a shot.

“You said you could do this alone,” he replies calmly. The shot glass fills to the brim before elegant fingers lace the metal cap back onto the bottle. It disappears below the bar and the man leans forward, resting his hands shoulder width apart on the wooden counter. He watches the thugs with casual disinterest, quirking an eyebrow when the boldest one makes a break for it and lunges at Ryan.

Ryan is a tangled mess of limbs as he fights off his attacker, gaining a bloody nose in the process. He distantly hopes it’s not broken again as he brings the butt of his gun down hard on his assailant’s head. There’s a sickening crack before Ryan scrambles for cover behind another overturned table.

“I - I was wrong, okay? We’re partners, Shane, remember? We took an oath!”

“An oath you broke, little guy.”

Ryan sighs, whipping around to fire off another shot before diving behind the bar. He tries to ignore the once affectionate nickname tossed out so casually. Rotten meat for feral dogs, he thinks.

“I take it back, I need you!”

Sweat and blood mingle and drip down Ryan’s face as he drops the empty cartridge onto the sticky floor. He jams the new one in, giving the man a searching glance before popping up for another shot. One of the henchmen has progressed towards the bar, now dangerously close.

“Well shit, Ryan.” The thin man drawls. “That’s all you had to say.” In a fluid motion, he takes the shot and slams the glass upside down on the counter. Pistol whipped from its holster, popping and cracking. The furthest thug drops, gun skittering across the floor as the unlikely pair behind the bar line up their final shots. Ryan and his ally share a quick sideways glance before the last thug drops with a heavy thud to the floor. Dust begins to settle as muzak is pumped in through tinny, underpowered speakers. Ryan slips his gun back into its resting place under his jacket and drops heavily into a nearby chair.

“It’s good to see you, Shane,” Ryan grumbles. “Wish it didn't take me almost dying for you to show up.”

Shane doesn't dignify the complaint with a response, folded below the bar searching for something resembling first aid supplies. He emerges with a towel and a bottle of high proof alcohol, silently refusing to meet Ryan's eyes.


End file.
